Routines
by Zoe Standing Bare
Summary: Maybe you’re developing OCD." More 2nd Person POV. One shot.


Author's Note: I think this has to be one of my favorite pieces that I've ever written. More 2nd Person because I love it. ^_^

Disclaimer: I have to think of more clever ways to say it's not mine. XD

You miss him.

That's the simplest way you can think of to put it. You miss him. Except that's _too_ simple, because there's so much more to it than just _you miss him_. You want him back. You want him to hold you again, and kiss you and just _make it better_.

But he won't, and he never will again.

Sure, you've tried to find someone since then. High school ended two years ago, and now you're a sophomore in college. You've dated around, fucked around, the whole play…but that's just what it is. A play. You can't seriously find anyone, not that makes you feel the same way he made you feel. And it's scary knowing that you probably never will.

Perhaps someday you'll settle for someone, someone who makes you feel a _little_ like he made you feel, but it just won't be the same. You honestly can't imagine that day, though. You'd feel like you're betraying him, even though he did this to himself. It took the better part of a year for you to realize that it wasn't your fault, but it still hurts. You can't imagine it not hurting.

You start off your day like you always do, getting out of bed, brushing your teeth, showering, maybe smoking a cigarette in there somewhere (you always used to think that smoking was disgusting, but college did even funnier things to you). You get dressed in comfortable clothing, possibly still thinking about how _uncomfortable_ the uniforms you once wore were, pull your books together, and head down to your first class. You always schedule early morning classes because you don't really sleep as it is, and you still get nightmares. It's easier to avoid them if you know you have to wake up at seven to make an eight o'clock class.

It's a Thursday, which means your first class is a psychology lecture. You hate how big the lower level psychology classes are, but you know once you get into upper level classes the students will be more concentrated. But even fewer of them want to do what you do; grief counseling.

At first you thought it would be decent to be able to respond to shouts of _you don't understand!_ with _oh, but I do_. Now that you've realized that's just silly, you just want to help others from experiencing all of the pain that you did. It's not right that people should go through the same things…maybe you can help at least a little.

Lecture is boring, and you doodle aimlessly on your notebook page, letting out a sigh. The professor drones on and on; you're supposed to be learning about mental disorders, which is a rather depressing subject to begin with. You think of when he first died and you sunk into your own depression. The kind that medication can't fix.

When you're finally dismissed, you notice that a guy has been eyeing you up for most of the period. You only notice this because he still is, and although you try to ignore him, he persists and follows you out of the hall, trying to talk to you. You smile and introduce yourself, and say, sure, you'd love to hang out tonight. He's cute enough, dark hair, dark eyes, nothing like _him_.

You don't want to 'get to know' this guy.

Someday you figure maybe you will. But it doesn't seem likely. _You _were always the persistent one in the relationship, you don't want to deal with another one of you. One is hard enough.

You go through the day like normal. Another class follows psych, and then you have a break. You get lunch and eat it alone. Yes, you do have friends, but none of them have the same breaks as you. So you sit in the cafeteria and eat a small salad. You're not too hungry today, and you have a suspicion that it's because you had a dream about him, but you can't remember.

Life was never this mundane, at least, not that you can remember. And as your last class, a history lecture ends, you decide it's okay to let loose a little. You call Ivy and ask if she and baby Juliet want to come visit over the weekend, something that hasn't happened in a long time. She happily says yes, they would love to, and you can hear the child clapping in the background. Juliet just learned how to do so, and it's absolutely adorable.

Next you call your mom, now that she's done work. She answers cheerily and asks how your day went. You tell her it was boring, but you're hanging out with a guy later. She excitedly asks what his name is, where you met him…you never expected she'd be this good about you being gay, honestly. She was always a good Catholic; now she's basically a PFLAG mom.

As you're waiting for the kid from lecture, you pull out a battered picture of you and him from senior year. You keep it in your wallet, so one edge is more worn and it's a little creased in some places, but the quality is still fine, and you can't help but smile at the way his arms are around your waist. You took the picture with his new digital camera in the room you two had shared for years, it took a little to figure out how the delay worked but you finally did, and snapped this wonderful picture.

You have that camera now, Nadia gave it to you. The only pictures on there were of you and him, although not always in the room or that pose. He always asked people to take pictures of you two at parties, events, everywhere, and though he always snapped pictures of others, he deleted them afterwards. He claimed that this camera was _just_ for you and him.

All the pictures are on your laptop now, and you look through them sometimes. They make you cry, just because of how happy you looked. The last picture on there has a date in the corner; right before spring break. The camera hadn't been used since then…at least, not that you know of.

It wasn't that that was the last time you were happy. You can still remember the bubbling ecstasy when he finally told you he loved you. But that obviously didn't last long. Now you just have memories.

You wait a little while longer, until you figure that guy isn't going to show and you sneak out of the coffee shop, walking back to your dorm. The nights aren't quiet anymore, it's nearly May and there are crickets out, adding to the cacophony of campus sounds. You wish that the noises made you forget, but they don't.

You still miss him.

Maybe someday you'll be lucky enough to forget…to find someone new, to move on. But you _really_ can't see that happening. He was your everything, and he always will be. Nothing could change that, and nothing ever will.

You go through your night routine, reading, homework…you have a paper due next week that you want to start, so you do. You get some more reading done; you've always been a very conscientious student and tend to read ahead. Plus it keeps your mind off of everything else. Today has been bad. You're not sure why…you probably had a dream.

It's nearly midnight when you feel your eyelids drooping and figure it's time to sleep. But you really don't want to sleep, because you're almost positive you had a dream last night, and probably will again tonight. That's what tends to happen. But your body is screaming, so you put everything away and go through the rest of your routine.

You change into pajamas, brush your teeth, take your medicine (just because your depression can't be fixed with meds doesn't mean they won't try) and crawl into bed, pulling the covers up to your neck. Even though it's warm out, you're so cold. You usually are these days.

All you can think about as you're drifting into sleep is that you _need_ your routines. They're how you really function anymore. And you hate when you have to break those routines, unless it's for something worthwhile like someone coming to visit or going home. Otherwise you wish things would just stay. Maybe you're developing OCD.

When you finally do fall asleep, you have the most wonderful dream. You're sitting on a grassy part of campus with him, his arms around you. The two of you are basking in the sunlight, laughing and quietly making up stories about people as they walk by. He keeps kissing your neck and you squeal at him to stop, to save it for the bedroom.

You want the dream to last, because you know somehow that you won't remember it the next morning. _He whispers in your ear _forever you andI. You don't want to wake up, because then you'll lose him again. _He kisses you softly_. You refuse to open your eyes. _He tells you he loves you_…

Friday morning, you wake up, rubbing your eyes and getting ready for your morning routine. You can't remember dreaming anything of great importance, but you know you _did_ dream.

With a sigh, you shrug it off and get ready for the day.


End file.
